


Fuck Me Pumps

by Little_Firestar84



Category: The Night Shift (TV 2014)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Short One Shot, Smut, fuck me pumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: After an altercation with your boss, your boyfriend, Dr. Michael Ragosa, comes to try and calm you down.You are a whimpering mess, and he knows all too well what's the best cure for your desease: his touch.
Relationships: Michael Ragosa/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Fuck Me Pumps

  


You’ve just given a piece of your mind to your boss, remaining cool and collected, almost detached, the whole time. Dr. Cummings doesn’t seem too moved by your declarations, nor he seems to care too much about your opinion, and you look at him giving you his back, leaving in an hurry. His body language – and his expressions as you reminded him that he did hire you out of a charity and that you are a doctor, too, so he can’t really expect you just worry about the money – are screaming that he is even beyond mad with you, and that the reason he is hurrying so much is because he is, probably, going to get your pink slip ready. 

Hearing the silence all around you, you close your eyes for a second, straighten yourself, and turn to look at your stuff, staring at you in an astonished silence. “Well? Showtime’s over, people!” You clap your hands once. “All right, back to work everyone! The ER isnot going to run itself on its own!”

The buzz of the chatter and the jingle and beat of the instruments fill the air once again, as you readjust your beige suit jacket and steadily walk back into your office, closing the door at your back. Once inside the security of your room, you start to hyperventilate, pacing the room with an hand on your chest, feeling your heartbeat, and one on your forehead. 

“OHGODOHGODOHGODGODPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE….” You mutter breathlessly, walking from your soon to be ex desk to the couch and back, again and again and again, just to collapse in a whimpering mess on said couch, head between your knees as you try to make this mini panic attack pass – or at least, you pray for it.

The doorsqueaks, and you clench your teeth, lifting your head just enough to see who’s come to disturb your nervous breakdown and give a piece of your mind to them, too- and in a totally uncontrolled and uncollected way, this time – when you see it’s your “ _boyfriend”,_ Dr. Michael Ragosa. It makes you feel a little better- but just a bit. 

“You are not going to leave me alone so that I could swallow my misery on my own, are you?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, making his way towards you. He stays before you, arms crossed, way too amused for his own good, given your current predicament. “Ah, c’mon, look at the bright side: if Cummings fire you, you’ll at least get a severance package and insurance. Differently from me.”

“That’s not funny, Mike.” You shake your head, looking as pale as a ghost. “I had to _pay_ Wes to get a divorce, and now I’m a single mum and soon I’ll be unemployed and I’ll have to get back to Chicago and my parents already don’t like me because I’m adivorcee and because I’m a doctor just like John and they didn’t want to see neither of us not being lawyers and my grandmother left everything to our charity so now I’m basically penniless and I think I’m about to have a nervous breakdown?”

He moves, kneeling before you, his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them, rolling your joints. You close your eyes, moaning blissfully at his touch. You have to say, when he wants, he can really be a sweetheart, and he gets you, better than many people who claim they know you oh so well – your family included. 

“Feeling better?” He asks you, cupping your cheek. You nod, covering his hand with your, and interlacing your fingers. He smiles at you, kindly. 

“I really don’t want to go back to Chicago. This is… I’m feeling like a normal human being for the first time in a very long time, and Steve’s finally gotten his routine, and I really, really, don’t want to get back in the same city of my parents and my ex.”

He smirks. “Good to hear that I’m the reason you don’t want to leave San Antonio.” 

“Ah, you know what I mean.” You sigh, a bit dramatically, looking in his eyes. “Mike, I love you, but I’ve already put my life on hold for a man once, I’m not going to do it again. I’ve always sacrificed myself so that Wes could get wherever he needed to be, and I’ve looked the other way for far too long. My son comes first. And I come second. I’m so sorry, but this is how it works with me.”

“I know.” He nods. “Trust me, I know. I’m a divorced father, and I’ve spent the last years moving from side to side of the Country to follow them just to be a presence in their lives. I love you, but I’m a parent first, and a doctor next, and then… then, whatever is left of me, is yours.”

“Good.” You nod, sniffing. “Good.” 

He nuzzles your nose, and you chuckle lightly, even if your eyes are still a little teary. You close your eyes, and sigh, content, as Michael’s lips delicately perch on your own, in a tender kiss that tastes like mint and coffee and vanilla and sugar- he probably eat something sinfully sweet before starting the shift – and you pull him against your body, your arms now around his neck, your fingers dancing on his scalp, sinfully scratching the back of his head in a way that makes him moan against your lips. 

His tongue searches for your own, it’s like it’s chasing it, and once you give up, smiling in the kiss, as he teases you. You loos what little willpower you had left, and, almost as he is sensing it, he encircles your hips with a strong arm and lefts you up as you weighed nothing at all, never parting his lips from your owns. Your wrap your legs round his waistline and squeeze, rubbing your clothed and quickly drenching sex against his hardening erection.

With you wrapped around him like a vine, he walks backward towards what used to be his desk, many and many years before. You squirm in his embrace, giggling against his lips as you hear the thud ofall the objects he made fall from your desk in order to free the surface for you to seat on. His hands run quicklyall over your body as he never ceases tokiss you, and yours aren’t idle either, as you squeeze the fabric of his light blue scrubs on his back and run the other through his jet black hair. 

With your heeled feet, still crossed at his back, you push him towards him, feeling with your lower body that he is more than primed for you. He seems to appreciate, as a guttural moan escapes his sealed lips, blending with your gasps of pleasure. You are already on fire, have long stopped pretending to care that this is your workplace and that your boss could come to talk with you any minute, when you lose what little reason you were left with as Michael’s hands move to your sides, and sneak underneath your prime and proper blouse. His fingers dance on your skin, as his mouth leaves your own. You’d lament the loss, if you weren’t too busy sighing and moaning as he starts leaving a trail of wet kisses on the column of your ivory neck. 

He finally parts from you, and, his forehead against yours, he pants. He lifts his head, looks for your eyes, and, as he sees them clouded by desire and sheer want, something just snaps in him, and in an heartbeat he is yet again devouring your lips, as his hands make quick work of your jacket and shirt. You’re not so idle either, as you palm his chest underneath the scrubs. You both stop kissing just long enough to get rid of your shirt and his scrubs, throwing each and every article of clothing on the ground. 

He takes a few steps back, and he just stares at you, sat on your desk, in what used to be his office, and he shakes his head, almost in disbelief  – a disbelief only made bigger when you, little minx that you are, undo your bra, and let it fall on the floor with a seductive move. 

He swallows, hard, as his chest rises and falls in a quick succession of crazy heartbeats and pants. “God, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I love you right now...” He sighs as he looks at you squeezing your breasts together like a consumed porn star and you bite down on your lip, hard, consumed by lust and want. 

He looks from you and the door and back again, and in one swift movement, he locks the door and he comes back to you. Giggling, you willingly accept him when he starts to devour your lips yet again, as he was a starving man whose only lifesaver is your mouth. 

“Are you sure?” He asks you as his hands go to your skirt, ready to lift the piece of azure fabric just enough to have you. You nod, trembling head to toes as he presses his clothed-covered sex against your femininity. 

“No- with your voice. Tell me you want this. me. now.” He swallows looking for your eyes. He is more serious than what he should be, than what he uses to be when you are in bed together, and you feel like crying, for you understand all too well what he is asking for you. He loves you- he just told you so – and he doesn’t want for you to be over, even if you’ll have to leave the hospital.

“Yes,” with glassy eyes, you cup his face, and nod again. “Yes, Michael. Of course I want you.”

His mouth returns to kiss yours, his eyes are blissfully closed. You lift your hips just enough to lift your skirt and allow Michael to get rid of the black scrap of fabric passing as panties- a match to your bra. He fumbles with his pants, just lowering them enough to free his erection without actually taking anything off. He spreads your thighs and positions his erection against you, his tip teasing your intimity.

You swallow hard as he finally lets go of your lips, allowing you to breath once again. He doesn’t give you any peace, though, as he bites down on your lobe, sucking it as he whispers words that take your breath – and your reason – away. 

“You have no idea how much I’d like to taste you right now- but I can’t wait. God, sweetheart, you were so fucking hot giving that asshole of Cummings a piece of your mind- can’t believe that I used to be just like him. Finally getting why T.C. always wanted to punch me…”

“You’re not… any longer… you… you changed.” You search for his month, and steal a series of open-mouthed kisses, panting against his lips. “Stop talking… about other men.”

He grins- in a yes, ma’am way – and he devours you mouth once again, giving you all of himself. His hands move to your ass and you cling with all of yourself to his virile neck. You don’t hear anything, just your pants in the quiet of the room, and your crazy heartbeats mingling together. He enters in you, fills you up, your bodies fitting together in that perfect way that always amazes you, because you feel like you were each other’s perfect half, like you belonged together, were made for each other and each other alone.

With your ankles crossed at his back, you go to slip your heels off, but Michael stretches his arm behind and grabs your feet, stopping you. You just lift your eyebrow, quizzically, and he smirks against your mouth. 

“Keep them on- I just _love_ those heels. Every time I see you in them, I just want you to have you.” You smirk in return, happy to comply, lazily scratching his back with your stiletto heel, making him mutter a course under his breath. 

And then…. Then, someone knock on your door, calling your name out loud, and it’s like someone just threw a bucket full of ice on the both of you. Michael swears yet again and leaves the humid heat of your body. In a record time, you both throw everything underneath your desk, hiding to the sight of the disturbing element the mess you’ve made of your office. You lower your skirt and put on from the head your shirt, your boyfriend doing the same, and you throws him abinder, ordering him to seat before your desk and pretend to be checking data, or anything, really, and only then you open your door, just to find your boss- ugh, how much you hate him – in front of you. 

“Dr. Cummings. Anything else I can do for you?” You ask, cool and collected as you were when you first “argued” with him in the corridors of the ER. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been thinking about discussing yours and Dr. Clemmens’ opinions with the board. I think you could have a point.”

You glare at him as you wanted to actually kill him. _Of course we have a point, you idiot. What do you think you hired me for?_ “Is that all?” You ask, crossed arms over your chest- hoping he’ll not notice that you aren’t wearing your underwear. 

“Yes. I’ll let you know when the board will arrange the next meeting.” He nods in your direction, and then in Michael’s direction, who nods in kind. “Dr. Ragosa.”

You let out a breath of relief and scratch your head as your boss finally leaves. “All right, now go. Go, go, go, back to work!” You hiss. The magic’s over- even Michael knows, too. He isn’t stupid enough to try and seduce you. For now.

He stops at your doorstep and turns towards you. “Well, Ma’am, I’m happy I could help with those data.”

“Of course. Thank you, Dr. Ragosa.” You nod. “So, I’ll let you know if I’ll need further explanations.”

“You’re welcome.” He grins, chuckling shamelessly as, with a sleight of hand, he steals your panties from your skirt pocket, hiding the black fabric in his own.

“Michael! Give them back!” You scream at low voice, and he tsk-tsks you.

“Nope. Every time I’m not thinking about a patient, I want to remember that you are sitting here without your underwear. And I want you to know that, as soon as shift is over, as soon as everyone is in the break room, we get into an on call room and we’ll finish what we started.”

You pretend to ponder it, and then, you bit your lips, like a little minx. “OK, fine, but now go. People’s going to get suspicious if you keep whispering to me.” 

Looking around as to make sure no one is looking, he steals one last kiss, and then he comes back to the ER, smug and stupid smile in place, grinning like a cat who got the canary, and immediately he goes to work on a chart. 

“You know, if you don’t wipe that grin from your face, everyone will know that you just got lucky with our boss.” TC teases him, as he leaves a chart on the desk and takes another folder. 

“Ehy, at least we didn’t make a video like you and Jordan.” T.C. stares at him, as Michael teasingly hits him with a folder on the chest. “Oh, you didn’t know we have security cameras in the elevator? My bad!”


End file.
